We dance to one song, then another, the world narrowing down to the space between us and the slow turn of the floor beneath our feet.
“You're good at this,” he compliments.
“You sound shocked.”
“You told me yourself that there weren't many formal, polite parties where you come from.”
“Did you know that it's entirely possible to dance without luxurious dresses or a crowd full of fancy people judging your performance?”
“I didn't.” His smile is crooked. “Who would have guessed?”
He twirls me once, gently, and I lose myself in the motion, slipping briefly into my few cherished memories of warmer, happier nights back in Halvgate. Of rare occasions when we put our work aside and danced around bonfires and laughed and drank until we were too tired to stand. Nothing so extravagant as this, of course, but it was enough to keep us going, to remind us that life is still worth living even when it’s hard.
I don't tell him it was Malachi who taught me how to dance. Now doesn't seem like the appropriate time to bring up the once love of my life—particularly since Reave is yet again glaring in the direction of the two men he drove away.
“You terrified those poor bastards.”
He blinks, pulling his gaze back to me. “An occasional dose of fear is healthy for a person.”
“But was itnecessary?”
“Yes. Because I didn’t like the way they were looking at you—like they were sizing you up, thinking about what position they most wanted to fuck you in.”
“How do you know that’s what they were thinking?”
“Because that dress of yours is having the same effect on most of the men present, I’m assuming.”
“Is it having that effect onyou?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“I’m not quite so easily rattled,” he replies, twirling me again, then drawing me closer as he adds, “besides: I’ve already decided.”
“Decided?”
“On what position I most want to fuck you in.”
Heat floods through my entire body, pooling dangerously between my thighs. “You’re very committed to this act.”
“I rarely do anything halfway.”
“Of course not. Always important to follow throughfor the sake of appearances,isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“And is our appearancesatisfying to you thus far, Your Majesty?”
He chuckles. “So formal.”
“Yes, because this is an ongoing business transaction.”
“Secured by a verbal addendum that you didn't take the time to detail or put to paper,” he reminds me, guiding me through another slow turn. “So, what if I said Iwasn'tsatisfied?”
I run my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. “I would endeavor to do better.”
His brows lift.
“I didn’t become successful in my line of work by failing to satisfy my clients.”
“Client,” he mutters. “I suppose that’s what I am to you.”
